


Forgetting

by TristaML



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, No Smut, mentions of minor character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:07:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28516143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TristaML/pseuds/TristaML
Summary: Goku approaches Vegeta at Dr. Briefs funeral
Relationships: Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28





	Forgetting

**Author's Note:**

> I'm terrible at summaries. This is sad, but also not.

Forgetting

It wasn’t the best surprise he could have gotten today. In fact, no surprises are more his thing. Who is he kidding? No one surprises him at all, but that’s the way he prefers it. Why did _he_ have to come out of hiding, _him_ of all of them, and greet him like that, so genial and considerate?

_“Hey, Vegeta!”_ he remembered hearing it all over again, (it was just a few minutes ago) _“You look great!”_ Kakarot went for his hand in earnest, and held it warm in both of his, before letting him go, like it never even happened, and turning away. Vegeta watched his back as he walked away from him, never even replying, and now he couldn’t take his eyes off of him, which brings us back to the present.

Vegeta tried his best to straighten his shirt without being noticed and remain as calm as he possibly could. Everyone around him, including his own children, only show signs of a bundle nerves and a host of tears. It was too much for him to handle, still, Bulma would be around shortly, and this is no time to test the woman. She just lost her father after all, that’s why everyone’s come. Vegeta, though, couldn’t focus and grew more distracted by the way Kakarot treats him than any other emotion flowing around in the room. Anything to get his mind off things, he supposed.

He snapped out of his own thoughts and heard something about everyone heading inside. It wasn’t until after he’d begun walking that he noticed Kakarot’s return and his whispering in his ear.

“Vegeta, how’s Bulma doing?”

Vegeta glared, distinctly hearing his clothing move as he shifted in waiting, and he assessed there was no harm in the question. He sighed a little, the stress of keeping appearances up with _him_ more difficult for some reason, “She’s strong. She’ll live.”

Kakarot just nodded, like he understood and he agreed or something, but Vegeta couldn’t help being anything but suspicious. Still they walked together inside of the building. The two Saiyan men brought up the rear to the congregation in the church that day, and upon Vegeta’s refusal to sit or get any closer to the casket, Goku opted silently to stand with him as well, and they watched the service from the far back wall. No one noticed.

Vegeta surveyed the room, stared at Bulma, watched his son and daughter carefully, and even listened a little bit to the sermon, anything that he could do to keep from drifting his focus to Kakarot. The last thing he wanted to do was lead the idiot into talking to him some more. They haven’t seen each other in some time.

There are more important things to think about, however, and neither Goku nor Vegeta could ignore the stagnant fragrance and stiffness to the air, or the sniffling and shuddering of the bemoaning audience. This is a bitter sweet ending to Dr. Brief’s, life. He was old, after all, and lived a full life, and he died of simply that, old-age, but the emotions of his family shook Vegeta more than losing the in-law. He did not like funerals and especially ones of these particular causes: inevitability.

As a man of power and battle-lust, he simply couldn’t get on their level. He’s killed for nothing, so to be moved by such a thing is something far beyond his grasp, yet he did feel mournful, but only for his children and for Bulma.

He could not deny, though, that there was a jealousy that brewed within him, and although he would stifle it like he does with his most selfish thoughts, he could not be rid of it entirely.

How could he be envious of Bulma getting to bury her father? It was something that couldn’t be helped. He never got to bury his father, and she held onto Dr. Briefs for so long, while he barely even knew his own parents. It’s one of those things. He’d always been crushed by the loss of his father, the loss of his family, his people, his home. He knew better than to mention his personal tirade against this funeral, but it still tore him up inside. These humans and their fickle lives, they don’t treasure what they have.

Before Vegeta thought twice on it he was already out the door quietly and quickly, jogging down the path they entered in by, heading towards the parking lot. The wind bit at him during this strange month and season. Late October here is hot one day and cold the next. Everything is alive and yet dying as the trees struggle to continue their growth in vein. It was not yet even the middle of the day, and though it’s bright outside, all you can see is the whiteness of the clouds and a mist that seems to lay in waiting. The weather was at least enough to get his terrible thoughts out of his head for a while. They returned though, and he fought through them.

“Vegeta,” a voice came from behind him, following from about five yards away as they walked a path unknown, out into the garden of dead corpse’s and flowers and stones with names and dates carved into them. “What’s wrong?” Kakarot asked.

Vegeta turned to him, unaware that anyone was behind him until then, and as he shivered there in the brisk morning, with cheeks flushed and a nose turning red, he wondered at what he should say to the man, a man so pure and so clean, he shouldn’t even be able to breathe the same air as him.

“Are you sad?” Kakarot asked him and his eyes held concern the way a first-time mother holds onto her newborn child. His handsome, flawless features showed none of the scars that he has on his back, nor the darkness he’s seen in his battles. Again, Vegeta envied deeply.

“Kakarot,” he finally said wistfully, his breath coming out in puffs in the cold air, “Do us both a favor and leave me alone. I didn’t ask you to follow me out here.”

Kakarot’s expression never changed, but he wasn’t moving to come any closer. Only then, as he stood stone still amidst the dying trees of this chilly morning, did Vegeta see for the first time a Saiyan inside of the man everyone on this planet calls ‘Goku’. He stood in awe of him for just a moment, taking in the full image of the tall man, who stood proud, and today he wore black for a change. Vegeta noticed it suits him well, adding to his snow-white toned skin, and his dark, alluring eyes. Something about the color, though, also brought out a change in his eyes, or at least the way Vegeta had always perceived them.

He’s always found him to be less intelligent than most, and more ignorant than many, but today he could almost swear he’s looking at a different man. The way Kakarot was staring at him, the way he’s holding himself upright, the little light that shines in his eyes speaks of more depth to him today. Then finally his voice broke through the silence, and he answered, “I lost someone who meant everything to me, too, Vegeta, when I was very young.” The gleam in his eyes shimmered like the faint twinkling of a star and it didn’t dim, and he went on to admit, “I don’t like this… I came because Chi Chi said Bulma would be mad if I didn’t.”

Suddenly, as if the sun made a breakthrough in the mist, Vegeta felt a few degrees warmer and a little less nervous. He replied, “Saiyans don’t do this sort of thing. Not like this.” Kakarot nodded, but seemed to have nothing else to say. At his silence, Vegeta quietly added, “I don’t envy my family’s pain, but I don’t partake in it, either.”

Kakarot’s face darkened and he said in thoughtfulness, “You have your own pains to bear.”

Vegeta couldn’t manage any speech for some time and Kakarot began again to draw closer, his shadow casting over him and the sun’s bright glare was temporarily hidden behind the tall, broad-shouldered man.

As Goku spoke again, Vegeta could hear the wind whining between them and all around. He was saying, “I killed the one person who took me in on this planet. I have never been able to forgive myself for it.”

Vegeta acknowledged that he’d heard the story from Bulma, and remarked, “Is that why you fight your Saiyan instincts?”

“Yes,” he nodded, and his eyes held a hue abnormal to observe, and darkness unlike Vegeta could ever remember seeing in them. Kakarot added in his earnest desire to be understood, “I didn’t find out about what I’d done for a very long time. I never got to _bury_ _him_ , though. There was nothing to be found of him. I would have rather he died of old age than be murdered without thought.”

Vegeta’s own demons began to gnaw at him in the pit of his stomach, and though he wanted to turn away from Kakarot and cease all conversation, his own heart lurched and he confessed, “Sometimes it’s best for a… friend to die quickly and by a cause unlooked for.” He turned his nose up at him to hide his own guilt but he couldn’t keep his eyes away from the other man’s gaze for very long.

Goku looked sadly at him and asked, in spite of everything, “Do you think it’s stupid I blame myself? I don’t expect you to understand, I just…”

Vegeta glared at him and answered, “I think it was an accident you ought to forgive yourself for. Besides, using your heritage as a background to your incentives against yourself is foolish.” His shoulders shook in his own distress and before he could stop himself he said, “There are things worth mulling over and things that will only hold you back, if you let them. You don’t know how well I **do** understand.”

Goku smiled with a gentle turn of his lips and said in insightfulness, “You can’t blame yourself for Frieza, Vegeta, Frieza was going to do what he wanted, regardless of who he killed,” Goku’s hand found Vegeta’s for the second time and he held onto it, squeezing tightly for just a second, “or who he hurt.”

Vegeta stood frozen, though it wasn’t the chill that was getting to him, but Goku’s assertive decision to force contact. Without pulling away he managed to sputter, “What does any of that matter?”

Shining eyes held onto Vegeta’s as Kakarot answered, “We are the men we are today because of our influences, Vegeta. If you had not gone through all of those trials this day never would have come, and although it’s sad, we both know there’s no reason for regret.” Goku’s voice trailed off and he looked down at their joined hands, fingers grasping fingers, and his thoughts wandered into uncertain routes.

Vegeta cleared his throat and tried to pull away, but it resulted in them clutching onto one another tighter at Goku’s resist, and Vegeta retorted, “We don’t know that our lives would have been better or worse without our homes… but I confess, during times like this, that does not make me long for it any less.”

“Is it because you’re the Prince that you feel that way? Would you have missed it any less if you were a third-class like me?” Goku asked, and Vegeta was amazed at his acuity.

He countered, “You never got the chance to live amongst your kind or see the beauty of our world. Would you, then, miss it more if you had once been a part of it and called it home?”

Goku smiled again and finally let Vegeta’s hand go, fingers slowly gliding away until at last when their arms fell back to their sides, it felt more awkward than if they had just continued holding onto one another. “You have a point,” is all he replied.

Vegeta noticed his heart pounding in his chest, for how long it had been going on now, he couldn’t say. He could swear Kakarot was getting at something, but what he wasn’t sure. He could only find it in himself to comeback with, “We believe in honoring our dead, and we celebrate their lives as well as our own, on a daily basis, back on Planet Vegeta, from what I can remember.”

Goku nodded, “Makes sense.”

Vegeta nodded, and he could not stop looking into Kakarot’s eyes, whether they shared the same vision or not.

Kakarot was not looking at him, not directly, until he added, “We can still do that, here, Vegeta. We can still honor your father, and my Grampa Gohan, in a more constructive way… even so far away… from that time; from our home.”

Vegeta wondered at his ears and his eyes this day. For Kakarot to speak to him of anything other than eating or fighting is extremely irregular, but for him to speak with such sharpness and carry himself with such impressive stature, well, it made Vegeta think twice about the man _he_ might have been on Planet Vegeta, had their home never been blown up.

Surely here is a man of great renown, a man of strength and wisdom that is not measured by worldly knowledge, but by the knowledge and the proper guidance of the spirit and the mind and the heart. Surely he would have been loved and feared and everyone who knew him would speak well of him, especially in a place where the culture acknowledges great deeds and pays its proper respects. Kakarot would have been a well-known name and perhaps even a leader of all sorts for his own social participation as well as his ability to recognize when he is needed and when his absence will do best. He would have been a favorite amongst men and women, with his easy-going ways, and happy demeanor, and sensual allure. He would have been a man worth fighting for and a lover worth pleasing.

Vegeta snapped out of his thoughts, which came as quickly as they went, and asked, “What are you suggesting?”

Goku was already moving in, already leaning forwards, his lips already pursed, the thought formed and already in action, and Vegeta just barely registered he was being kissed on the cheek before he whispered, “Some time with you to just be… us.” He pulled back and they stood together again feeling strange because of the new experience, and then the instant lack of contact left them both empty, and he explained, “You know, Vegeta, you make me feel at ease. I guess, maybe it’s something about the fact that you aren’t at ease at all,” and he laughed.

Vegeta realized he was being teased and he wasn’t sure, but for a moment he thought he liked it. His face turned even redder, and his eyes held an emotion other than anger, and he let out, “Kakarot!”

But Kakarot only smiled at him.

Vegeta felt an urge, overwhelming in its coming on, to return the gesture of kindness that the other man had just shown him. He thought hard on what to say. Nothing seemed right. No phrase could ever do, no subject good enough, no story, no excuse or explanation came to him to show Kakarot how he felt.

Kakarot turned and began to walk away, down towards one of the many paths amongst the gravesite. He’d only gone a few long strides before he turned back to Vegeta, inviting him to go have a look around together. The Prince put his hands in his pockets and huffed, but he joined him. As they toured the grasslands and read over the tombstones, they talked of years gone by that they would never see again, people, places, thoughts, and things that gave one or the other comfort.

Kakarot smiled unceasingly at Vegeta, and the older man, who didn’t know why, would never know, because Kakarot knew better than to tell him. Vegeta wouldn’t like hearing that Goku admired him, or that he found him charming and handsome, even when he acts tough or indifferent. He would never tell him that he’s drawn to his dark side, and even his temper excites him. He would never tell him that his face looks even more beautiful every time he sees him, or how much he liked the angle of his jaw line, and the fullness of his lips, or that the sound of his voice has haunted many of his dreams.

He would never tell him because he didn’t want it to change, but he decided what he would do is show him that he means something to him. He will show him that he’s special and that there is another purpose he wishes between them. He will show him what it means to be loved, because he knows, somehow, that he’s the only one who can.

With every new step Vegeta opens up to him more, and with each word Kakarot itched to gain his confidence, but he took his time, until they fell upon a makeshift gravesite on the edge on the property. They’d gone very far away; this spot couldn’t have been on record as an actual grave, but a grave it was nonetheless. They stood by it and each shared their thoughts.

“They must not have been able to afford a lot here,” Vegeta explained, “The body is probably not buried here.”

“Don’t you think we should leave the dead alone, it’s been enough for one day.”

“They’d do anything for one more day; we should give it some thought.”

“Oh, yeah…” replied Goku solemnly.

Vegeta looked at him out of the corner of his eye and said at a change in heart, “Perhaps you’re right, we should move on.”

Goku grabbed onto Vegeta’s arm before he could step away by himself. As Vegeta halted and looked up at him in confusion, Goku pulled him in another direction, heading now, deliberately off of the premises. Time went by without much ado. Vegeta allowed himself to be led, and Goku gently held on, guiding them both through the thinning woods and glittering light from beneath the trees.

Vegeta finally asserted himself into Goku’s attention and asked, “What’s going on in that head of yours, Kakarot? Is there something else you wanted to talk about?”

Goku smiled and kept on walking, and as long as he was going forward, Vegeta went, too, until finally he stopped and turned to the older man and said, “I told you I wanted some alone time with just me and you.”

“Yes,” Vegeta chuckled, seeing now that Kakarot does indeed have him all to himself.

Then Goku kissed him in the midst of nothing but the forest. He held onto his head with both hands gently, pulling him closer and drawing him in, until he could feel Vegeta’s shock subsiding and his initial reaction of confusion end. The Prince pulled back for only a moment, then there was a response, a deep and passionate return of the emotion which Vegeta left him swooned by as their lips met and sealed together for a second time. Goku’s cheeks flushed, and one sweet kiss after another they laid onto the other’s face, whispering one another’s name and clutching each other close and closer.

Ghosts and deadly things may enter the recesses of their minds at times. Darkness, evil, and hate may follow and torment them. Determination and desolation may struggle within them, but in one another they’ve found what everyone looks most of their lives for: solace.

Although their actions didn’t seem to be logical or explicable, to them, with a simple kiss, everything suddenly made perfect sense.


End file.
